


Type (One Shot)

by heyjayyay



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alren, F/F, type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjayyay/pseuds/heyjayyay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She made stupid cookies and laughed too loud and Lauren fucking loved it.</p><p>Alren AU featuring grumpy Lolo and bubbly Ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Type (One Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> Stay in touch!  
> Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07BB6DFXN  
> Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17449889.Jessica_Yeh  
> Facebook: facebook.com/JessicaYehWrites/  
> 

**Type**

Lauren never understood why a graduate student would accept having an undergraduate as a roommate. Younger kids were supposed to be considered annoying, right? If roles had been reversed, Lauren wouldn’t have accepted someone like her to be her new living partner. Then again, Lauren was more of a loner, enjoying the time and quiet to herself. She liked to be alone, but never did she feel lonely. She was independent and practical. There was a difference.

Lauren was the epitome of a Type A personality. She got herself involved in all sorts of activities and busied herself with school work and writing for the campus paper to the point that she would simply overwhelm herself and collapse in her bed at night from exhaustion, or stress, only to repeat the cycle again the next morning. Other than work, Lauren limited herself in terms of who she interacted with. People exhausted her and socializing tended to drain her of all her energy. She had no patience for small talk and petty conversation. She was a rationalist, a Machiavellian; someone who was pragmatic, maintained emotional distance, and believed in the practical.

Her roommate, however, was different. Lauren knew that the minute she stepped into the apartment that August afternoon. After receiving the keys to her new place from the main office, the green-eyed girl lugged her suitcase and laptop from her trunk , up the small walkway to the townhouse.

With a rattle, the door unlocked and she was met with something that could only be described as an advertisement in Better Homes and Gardens. The walls were decorated with pastel canvases with flowers painted on them, glass jars with clear beads of all shapes and sizes rested on any flat surface available, sparkling rainbow colors around each room. The curtains, yellow and baby blue polka dots, seemed as if they were never closed as the sunlight poured in through the spaces of the blinds.

“Hiya!” A small girl with way too much pep in her step in Lauren’s opinion greeted her from the kitchen. Her ombre hair was tied up in a messy bun, a frilly pink apron around her neck. There was a speck of icing on her cheek, but Lauren didn’t bother to tell her to wipe it away, instead she eyed the girl cautiously, pulling at the sleeves of her leather jacket.

“I’m Ally.” The girl continued, placing the tray of baked goods, what Lauren presumed to be cupcakes, on top of the stove to cook. “You must be Lauren.” Ally noted.

Lauren nodded silently. “I made these for you,” the girl explained, gesturing to the tray she had just set down. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them iced in time for your arrival. I didn’t know when you were getting here.”

“It’s cool.” Lauren shrugged. “I don’t really like sweets anyway.” She observed, noting that the cupcakes were a dark brown shade. Lauren hated chocolate.

“What?!” Ally gasped, eyes widening as if Lauren had just admitted to committing a murder. “How could you not?”

Lauren observed her roommate. She was bubbly, all smiles, and walked with an air of carefree wonderment about the world; a Type B personality dreamer. It was something that Lauren was used to writing about, but not something she had ever lived with. Lauren was a practical person; logical and reasonable. Ally acted with passion, emotion, and spontaneity.  

Somehow they managed to make it work. That’s not to say that some of the things Ally did didn’t drive Lauren up a wall. Like when she would come into her room without knocking on the door first. But it was okay, because she usually brought snacks with her, urging Lauren to take a break from typing away on her laptop. The undergrad would reluctantly set aside her glasses, rubbing her eyes and allow herself to be pampered just a few seconds while her roommate would comb her fingers through her long brown hair.

“You’re going to overwork yourself, Laur.” The shorter girl lectured.

“I can take care of myself, Allyson.” Lauren  responded, closing her eyes before rolling them behind her lids so that her roommate couldn’t see. As much as she hated the nagging, she knew it was just because of the type of person Ally was. She genuinely cared and Lauren didn’t want to upset the girl. She let out a sigh, taking a bite from the Reese’s cookie that Ally had rested on a napkin that she had placed in the corner of her desk. After their first month of living together, Ally had learned that the only sweets that Lauren liked were Nutella and Reese’s Pieces. The day she realized, the roommate went out and bought a whole new set of ingredients to stock the kitchen with; catering to the younger girl’s particular taste preferences.

Ally hummed in response, ignoring the flatness of Lauren’s tone, her hands moving to rest on the girl’s shoulder as she slouched back in the chair, porcelain fingers still hovering over the keys as she typed.

“What are you working on this time?” The older girl inquired, leaning slightly against Lauren’s back to peer curiously at the screen. Lauren was one of the columnists for the campus paper, arranging the 26 letters of the alphabet into beautiful words that evoked a wave of emotions and deep thoughts. Ally always told her that she had admired the younger girl’s skills. Lauren would simply shrug it off as if it were no big deal, because to her, it wasn’t.

The thing about Lauren’s romantic column was that she didn’t believe a word of what she was writing. It was ironic. Everything that she wrote was just a fantasy that she had made up based on the cheesiest things that she had seen in movies. Movies were just another fantasy. But Ally seemed to love them, swooning and awing over every rose, proposal, and shy first kiss.

Lauren knew that the subjects of her stories were all fake. People like that don’t exist. They’re idealized versions of the real world. She paired words like “hand” with “tender”, “soft,” and “gentle.” Love was coupled with “passion,” “understanding,” and “embrace.” Settings always involved sunsets in front of some body of water; the ocean, a lake front, etc. Everything was formulated, despite what one may think.

“Gosh,” The shorter girl sighed once she had finished reading what was on the laptop in front of the pair. “That’s so beautiful…” she said, moving to sit on Lauren’s bed, the dark purple sheets surrounding her in a bold contrast against her bright yellow shirt. Ally flopped back, dreamily as her gaze lingered out of the bedroom window. Lauren snorted to herself. It was typical romance novel material but of course, a sappy girl like Ally would love reading something like that.

If only she knew how dreary the real world actually was, how mundane and tedious dating was, and how awkward the first time really was. They don’t mention the awkward times when you don’t know when it’s acceptable to run to the bathroom, how awkward is it when your hands are so clammy they you can’t even work up the nerve to hold the other person’s hand,  or how strange having sex actually is. There’s literally another person’s naked body on top of yours and the two of you get caught in the blankets, readjusting repeatedly, unable to get in a comfortable position unless you completely remove them; but then you end up freezing and getting goose bumps all over. The body naturally needs sex to reproduce, it’s the logical thing to do. But somewhere along the line in the course of history, people started equating sex with emotions; renaming the act “making love” rather than simply addressing it as “intercourse.”

After typing away on her laptop, the room silent aside from the ticking sounds of Lauren’s clock and her nails clicking against the keys, she finally finished the column for the week. Closing her laptop, she stretched her arms above her head, rolling her head from side to side. Lauren was absolutely beat. She glanced over to her side only to find that her roommate had fallen asleep on her bed. Lauren smiled to herself before gathering her things to get ready for bed. A few minutes later, the undergraduate was changed into a pair of boy shorts and baseball tee.

Carefully maneuvering herself around the now dark room, making sure not to wake the smaller girl, Lauren slipped under the covers, wrapping an arm protectively around her roommate who sighed contently, cuddling closer to the green-eyed girl. She nuzzled her nose against Lauren’s jawline before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. Lauren smirked at the childish act of affection but regardless, gave the girl’s waist a squeeze.

“Goodnight, Allycat.” She whispered into the darkness. A few months ago, if you would have told her that she would be contently sleeping beside a girl who wore blaring neon clothing, baked and sang Selena songs while dancing around the kitchen, and cracked up laughing at her own lame jokes, Lauren would have thought you were delusional. But somehow, Ally had managed to make it happen. Type A vs. Type B. Anyone with a brain could see that their personalities should have classed, but for some reason, they didn’t. Lauren thought, maybe just maybe, it’s because Ally was just what she needed in her life; the perfect balance. She was just her type. 


End file.
